Playing with fire

I have begun a testing period to try and determine a level of dairy exposure that I can live with and to see if perhaps I can develop a little more of a tolerance. The impetus for this is the likely possibility of some travel later this year to places where it would be very difficult and sad to completely avoid. (I promise to tell you all about my travel plans once they are for sure-- I don't want to jinx it!)

I intended to start with small amounts of butter, since butter has relatively less protein (which is usually what people react to when they have allergy) but to which I sadly am still allergic. While I was at the store buying very good butter yesterday I looked longingly at the yogurt and decided to try that too. I bought one single serve container of cream top plain yogurt. I have never liked plain yogurt without honey or fruit or something to make it sweeter, but let me tell you that first bite yesterday was fantastic. I haven't had yogurt in probably five years. I ate a couple bites, then waited a half hour, then a couple bites more. I think my tolerance level was at about half the container-- after I ate the whole thing I didn't have as severe of a reaction as I thought I would but my nose was running and my breathing was not good, due it seemed to a lot of mucus production in my esophagus. I woke up feeling kind of bloaty too. So test one-- 8 oz plain yogurt is too much, but not disastrous (though I imagine repeated exposures to that amount would be). After I get contamination in a restaurant I often develop a cough and I didn't get that so perhaps that's a gluten reaction.

Now I will wait a couple days and try again with small amounts of butter.

The last valentine

Above, my grandma and my step-grandpa on their wedding day.

Two weeks ago I spent some unexpected down time making a Valentine's day care package for my family in Oregon. I made candy, bought cards and a little pink bear for my cancer stricken grandmother. I mailed it off figuring it would arrive if not by Valentine's day by the following Tuesday. Unfortunately, my grandma never saw that little bear. On February 15th she succumbed to cancer-- her pain, ever constant for several years and agonizing for the last few days is at last over. I went through last week in a weird swing from a crying daze to completely fine and in denial. My brother does not have a phone right now and having to go physically track him down to tell him the news was tough. Even tougher, was when I arrived at her house on Friday after a 6 hour train ride. Something about being there and seeing her things without her there was overwhelming.

In the end, it was an incredibly cathartic weekend. I helped my mom go through grandma's closet-- I get my love of clothes from her. She always looked completely chic and put together. She also was incredibly tiny-- at 5'5, she never weighed more than 115lbs-- usually much less (in her later years she struggled to keep her weight above 90 pounds). Still, she had a strong presence and it wasn't until I held her clothes to me and tried on her rings that I fully understood how small she was. Many of her clothes, size extra-small she had modified to make the waist even smaller. She made many of her own clothes and though I myself am not at all large, most of her pants would only make it half way around me. She had a few shirts that were cut larger (she often wore things on the baggy side, perhaps to make herself appear larger) and those now belong to me, as well as a number of pieces of her jewelry-- I am now wearing her wedding ring from her second marriage on my pinky-- the only finger it fits (and it's snug).

We spent hours going through old photo albums-- at one point grandma must have just decided to put everything in albums quickly-- there were several albums that were a complete mishmash-- a picture of my mom in high school, followed by three pictures of her second husband's family, followed by pictures of me when I was a baby followed by pictures of my grandfather, who died before I was born. My dad made a slide show of pictures from her life for the funeral, from which I learned so much more about who she was when she as young-- she was a baton twirler in high school, very outdoorsy as a young mother (they took lots of backpacking trips) and always, always looked put together. She wore things that would look absolutely ridiculous on someone else but that completely worked on her. She liked large substantial necklaces, asian art and high waisted, wide leg pants with short boxy tops.

The funeral was an exercise in self-restraint-- it wouldn't have been appropriate for me to cry hysterically through it, though I kind of wanted to. It was a little more formal than we're used to, due to the unavailability of the Presbyterian church (all it's staff were on retreat all week) it was held in the Episcopal church. It was a nice service, but what had me in tears was so many of her friends and family telling me how much she had talked about me and what a wonderful lady she was. Grandma loved cats and had tons of kitty trinkets around her house. Mom and I each wore one of her cat pins to the funeral, and I think she would have loved that.

When I came home Marc asked me if I had been close with my grandma. In the last 10 years or so I have only seen her a couple times a year and so perhaps not. But when I was a little girl she lived with us and she read to me every day and took me for walks all over Eugene. We had some kind of connection that I can't quite explain that was different than with anyone else I know-- I loved her very much and I wish she had lived closer so I could have spent more time with her.

So though I will miss her, going to her funeral, seeing that my mom and uncle are going to be okay and being able to say goodbye in that way gave me a sense of closure and peace about her death that I don't think I would have had if I had stayed home. I still get teary if I think about her (like in writing this post) but I truly feel she has gone to a better place.

And today the sun is shining and I feel more at peace than I have in quite a while....

Outside my comfort zone

I've been in kind of a rut lately. I don't do very well with too much time on my hands-- I need structure and plans-- I've been spending too much unstructured time sitting around doing nothing.

Last week's attempt at going from sedentary to super active backfired the way it always does-- by Thursday I was so exhausted I couldn't move-- partly I think because 7 hours of sleep a night wasn't enough to recover. So other than a walk around Greenlake this weekend I haven't gotten much exercise since last Wednesday. Tonight I return to my beloved kickboxing and will try to combine a more moderate approach with appropriate rest. The problem is that the exercise does my brain a world of good, but my body can't keep up with the amount of exercise my brain needs. (Story of my type A life-- which actually should be the title of this blog, no?)

I also have been losing my sugar battle. The combination of too much unstructured time, fear of unemployment (I don't know where all these rising healthcare jobs are, but they aren't in dietetics in Seattle that's for sure), and sadness over my grandmother's failing health all combined into me once again, turning to my old abusive friend sugar to comfort me. This has only made me more depressed, moody and sad, creating a vicious emotional cycle and tightening pants. So it's time for sugar and I to take a break. The only way it ever works for me to get off it is to go cold turkey and make no excuses, so that's what I'm doing-- starting NOW.

I'm also pushing my own boundaries in other ways-- trying to meet new people and find new projects. Marc and I are tentatively signed up for a co-ed soccer team that starts in March. I have not played soccer since I was 6 years old, I am not a good runner and I have absolutely no coordination, but trying to be more social outside and getting some exercise, plus an activity we can do together all sound like good things. I was inspired by a really weird movie we saw a few weeks ago, where Jennifer Aniston's character's outlet was playing indoor soccer and I thought-- that sounds fun, where can I play soccer?

We are also in the early stages of planning a big trip for May after I finish my internship and I'm starting to get excited about the possibilities.

Spring is coming... thank God for that.

The Refuge

(The title of this post is a little shout out to fellow newsies fans...)

Despite many resolutions at the beginning of the year I had a really hard time getting motivated to go to the gym. Sometimes I would walk and jog around my neighborhood (not terribly pedestrian friendly) or do exercise videos on demand on cable, but I wasn't really working that hard or often enough but I couldn't get inspired to go-- the gym I was going to was crazy busy after about 3:30 in the afternoon, and I really don't like getting up before 5am to work out (soooo not a morning person!)

I started looking into other options, and found that a new gym opened about four miles away so I went to go check it out. The new gym is the same company as a gym I used to work out at downtown before I started going to 24 hour fitness, and it opened in a building that used to be Marc's favorite 24 hour fitness branch until 24 hour opened another branch that cost extra to use (which is why the Lynnwood branch got so busy, because no one wanted to pay extra to use the new gym!) I always hated the Everett branch because the equipment always seemed to be broken and it was really dark (probably because they knew they were opening a new one and didn't keep it up).

Well the new gym is still kind of dark and has yucky fluorescent lighting, but it is very uncrowded which is great, has good classes and, how to describe this? It has much better energy. Excuse me for getting metaphysical for a moment but my old gym always had a very frantic, loud frenzied sort of energy that I found exhausting. The new gym feels very laid back and community oriented. Plus, I've been going to this class called "Ultimate Kickboxing" and I think I'm addicted. I don't really like aerobics because I'm not coordinated enough, but I used to do tae-bo in college. This new class involves kickboxing with the big heavy punching bags and OH MY do I love it. It's a killer work out-- the first day I nearly vomited, but it is SO FUN!! Other days I do weight circuits and run, and as soon as I post this I'm off to try the yoga class. Instead of dreading the gym I look forward to it-- I've been going two out of every three days. It also helps that my schedule right now allows me to come home, eat something and relax a little before going to the gym. I'm tired and sore a lot as I get used to this routine but I'm enjoying it and hope I can keep it up!

What if your your dietitian is fat?

About a year ago I was having a conversation with one of my friends, also a nutritionist, about how we both wanted to lose a few pounds and get in better shape before we finished school because we felt that as healthcare professionals it is important for us to practice what we preach and project the right image. Another classmate, trying to be helpful but actually was kind of insulting by telling me that I was better off as I was because overweight people would be less likely to trust someone who was super skinny because they would feel I wouldn't know what they were going through. Just like a hairdresser with bad hair, or a personal trainer who is out of shape, I think people in the health industry should be an advertisement for their services before they ever open their mouths.

Lately I have been noticing a lot of people who are health and fitness professionals who clearly are struggling with their own health. For example, yesterday I went to an all day workshop on Renal dietetics put on by the dietitians at a major dialysis center in Seattle. It was a great workshop and they were all very knowledgeable about what they do, but I couldn't help but notice several of the dietitians were overweight, one of whom was bordering on obese. Last year when my school was reviewed by a committee of dietitians from the ADA the lead dietitian was one of the largest women I've ever seen. Then, today I went and toured a new gym near my house and the very sweet man who showed me around was enormous-- probably 6'6 and over 300lbs.

I have long struggled to keep my weight under control and while there is a bitchy part of my brain that snaps to judgment of these people (I will admit it!) my heart breaks for them-- it is a sign of our broken healthcare and food system that even the people who are highly educated in health can't seem to follow their own advice (myself included sometimes!)

In fact, the reason I went to check out this new gym is that I can't seem to make myself go to the gym lately-- I'm hoping that a change in scenery and a less crowded facility might get me more inspired to show up more regularly-- so maybe I can start following my own advice!

Ode to my Grandma

I am fortunate at 30 years old to have had both my grandmothers still living. My grandfathers died before I was born, and in fact my mom's stepdad and the only man I knew as grandfather also passed away a few years ago. When I was a baby, until I was three my maternal grandmother Frances lived with us and took care of me. I remember her being a fantastic story reader. She is an avid reader, passionately liberal, and, until recently a wonderful gourmet cook. My brother and I would go spend a week every summer staying with my grandparents and my grandma would make us all this fancy food we wouldn't eat. To grandma, simple mashed potatoes were red potatoes mashed with the skin, cream, green onions and tons of spices. She also was great at sewing and knitting-- until I was about 6 she made all of my clothes and made (and mended repeatedly) the baby blanket I carried everywhere with me as a toddler. She and my grandpa traveled a lot and she brought me dolls from everywhere they went, and then made tons of doll clothes for them all. As her only grandchildren, my brother and I were very spoiled and loved. In college when I was scraping by paying my own way through undergrad, my grandma sent me $100 every month to help pay my rent. She has always supported me in any way she could.

My grandma has unfortunately been in poor health for several years. She has arthritis which has lead to the degradation of cartilage in one of her shoulders-- she literally has none left and has bone on bone causing pain so severe she has been on high dose narcotics for years because she is not strong enough to withstand surgery. Narcotics have severe side-effects including loss of appetite and constipation. For the past few years she has had a hard time keeping her weight above 90 pounds (when she was younger she was 5'5-- despite some height shrinkage and being very small framed 90 pounds is definitely too thin).

After increasing abdominal pain over the past several weeks she had a scan that revealed masses on her pancreas and liver. Though the results are not back from the lab yet, she most likely has pancreatic cancer that is spreading. Her doctor is guessing she has at best maybe six months left to live. Given the grim prognosis of pancreatic cancer, plus her age and her delicate state, there is nothing they can do but keep her comfortable.

I don't really know what to do with this information. She has been so unwell the past couple of years that my parents moved to Oregon to be near her (and my uncle and other grandmother who all have health issues) and my mom has been a nearly full time care taker for a year and a half. Cancer at 84 years old is sad but not the same tragedy as cancer in the young. I am glad that her pain will come to an end and that she will get to be with my grandfather, who I never got to meet but who was the love of her life and her soulmate. On the other hand, I love her so much and I hate that she has to go through this and hate it even more that she is leaving the rest of us behind. I have never been very good at goodbyes.

Holiday Recap

The delinquent blogger returns! I did find enough Christmas spirit to put up my tree and get my gifts in order. We had a nice quiet Christmas with Marc's family the weekend before Christmas and then we went to Oregon for actual Christmas where I watched my mom get very stressed trying to get a very complicated dinner on the table and vowed that next year I'm either doing the cooking or not going-- no one should be so stressed on Christmas! On our way home we stopped and had dinner with my Aunt, Uncle and Cousins in Portland which was really fun (although bless their hearts they got a birthday cake for my mom and me since we both had big birthdays this year and I didn't have the heart to tell them I couldn't eat it, so I made Marc "share" mine with me and didn't actually eat any.)

Last Wednesday was Marc & my 9th wedding anniversary. I realized yesterday he has now been my husband for three times longer than he was my boyfriend. Craziness. He had to work that day, but we did go out to dinner at a new Indian place in Mill Creek. I told him I didn't feel like we needed to make a big deal out of it-- I am grateful to have him in my life every day. Maybe next year we'll be able to afford to go somewhere to celebrate a decade together.

I didn't really get my energy back until New Year's Day. I'm not sure what possessed me but about 4 in the afternoon I suddenly felt inspired to do all of the cleaning and organizing projects that have been haunting me for weeks and I cleaned like mad for about 9 hours. My house is cleaner than it has been in years-- I only have one last organization task of taking out everything in my kitchen cabinets and the freezer and reorganizing left to do.

I got together with some of my oldest and dearest friends on Saturday-- two of them have children now, one only two months old (born on my birthday!) and the other about 18 months. Both are the cutest little boys you have ever seen. I realized two things: 1. I really really want a baby and 2. It has been a very long time since I actually even held a baby and might need some lessons or something before I have my own because I have no idea what I'm doing!! At any rate career is going to have to take precedence for a bit longer before I go down that road.

My energy has mostly been better the last few days (compared to the first two weeks of break where I couldn't hardly get off the couch) although yesterday Marc and I went shopping for clothes for him (not a fun prospect) and I was overwhelmingly exhausted. I've been trying to figure out if it's just finally getting caught up on sleep, having eaten more iron lately (I seem to have chronic deficiency) or something else that is helping.

I'm lucky that since I'm on semesters I am off for one more week. I have granola bars to hand out at Whole Foods stores later today (my oh so glamorous job) and tomorrow my parents are coming to visit for a few days, since we didn't get much time together in our whirlwind trip to Oregon (between having to sleep on the floor and Marc's cat allergies we really can't stand to stay longer than a couple days).

Marc and I also committed to give up all sugar and processed foods for a month starting next Saturday after my family leaves. We've had a couple holiday months of a bit more sugar and crappy stuff than I care to admit to and we could both use a healthy detox. I'm also trying to get him to eliminate dairy and gluten for that time to test for sensitivity-- I'm almost certain he has lactose intolerance but I want to see if it's more than that. He's not terribly enthusiastic about it, but then I make 90% of his food anyway.

I have been very engrossed in reading a book called "The UltraMind Solution" by Mark Hyman, MD. It is very much a culmination of what I learned in my Functional Medicine class, and though I disagree with Dr. Hyman on a point or two, overall it is exactly what I would write if I were going to write a book. When I finish reading I'll post a summary and tell you all about it-- I'm also in talks to design a nutrition class based on the book for a Wellness Center in Kirkland-- more on that later too.